Maybe Someday
by MusicCityDiva
Summary: If he doesn't say anything now, he might lose her...forever. Or will he? Set in season 2, definitely CM, please read and review!


Author's Note:  This inspired little fic-let that poured out of my fingers in one night's time.  It takes place within the episode TOW Ross and Rachel…You Know, during the scene in Chandler and Joey's apartment right before Ross and Rachel leave on their date and Monica goes out with Richard for the first time.  It was written to fit right into the episode, during the "missing scenes," if you will.  Most of this is original, but I did borrow a few lines of dialogue directly from the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Monica or Chandler or Ross or Rachel or Phoebe or Joey.  And I don't own the few lines of dialogue that I borrowed and I don't own the apartments or the streets of NYC.  There.  Does that just about cover everything?

Copyright 2002 MusicCityDiva****

**MAYBE SOMEDAY**

Apparently, thirty-two hours of nonstop television hadn't numbed my mind as much as I'd originally thought.  Granted, it had dulled Joey long ago, but considering whom we were talking about here, that wasn't much of a feat.  At this point, the only occurrences able to divert Joey's attention from the big screen were suggestions of topless woman—which turned out to be a scam on Rachel's part—and of course, food.

Speaking of food, I had known Monica was slightly irritated with the fact that Joey and I had been using her apartment as a delivery point for the past two days, but she seemed more keyed up than usual as she stormed into my apartment where the other five of us were all ready gathered.  Her short, form-fitting dress and enticing perfume caught my notice briefly, but it was a little difficult to compliment someone who was practically dumping our latest take-out order in my lap. 

"Stop sending food to our apartment!" she demanded irately without waiting for an answer.

Crossing my fingers, I nodded compliantly, knowing that it would only be a matter of hours before Joey's stomach required a fresh order of pizza.  It didn't really matter if I agreed, though, since Monica was all ready deep into a conversation with Ross, using that tone that invited no arguing.  However, the exchange sounded intriguing enough to halfway listen to while rummaging through the bags of hot food.

I had only halfway unwrapped a burger when something Ross said finally penetrated my television-infused brain.

"You have a date?  Who with?" he asked Monica nosily.

No fast food or television show could have tempted me now.  Now, just as curious as Ross, I could only focus on Monica's pending answer.  

Not that I was curious for the same reasons as Ross.  His was a big brother protective concern; mine was something entirely different.  Something that I had felt ever since the first day she had moved in across the hall, even before we had formed the friendship that strangers often mistook for something more intimate.

The truth was, every time an "outsider" questioned the status of Monica's and my relationship, my heart beat a little faster, wishing that it would be the moment Monica realized that we actually belonged together.  But she was evidently content with the way things were, with letting me be the fallback guy, the shoulder to cry on, the trusty friend across the hall.  Just her best friend, Chandler.  Just dependable, sarcastic, lovable, but commitment-phobic, never datable Chandler.

I liked the friendship part, I really did.  I had never had a close girl friend before, someone with whom I was completely comfortable and unguarded.  I liked being the first one she turned to, and in turn, I treasured the fact that I could confide in her, but sometimes I just didn't understand why that couldn't be something more.  The best couples were "friends first."  Weren't they?

But I couldn't just _tell _her I liked her.  How third-grade.  Here, Mon, do you like me?  Check yes or no.  

That would ruin everything.

Wait.  Had Monica answered Ross yet?  Who was her date with tonight?  

"…so you gotta promise you won't get all big-brothery and judgmental," she was telling Ross firmly, as I turned my focus back to their conversation.

Ross nodded.  "I promise.  What?"

There was a slight pause before Monica answered.  "It's Richard Burke."

_'Who?'  _I thought.  _'Who the hell was Richard Burke?  Why would Ross be concerned about Monica dating him?  Since when had Ross worried about anyone that Monica had dated?'_

But judging from Ross' reaction, Monica had been right to withhold the information.  

"Doc, Doctor Burke?  You have a date with Doctor Burke?  Why, why, why," Ross stammered incredulously before catching himself, "…should that bother me?" he finished lamely.

_'Who IS he?'  _I wanted to scream, but subtlety demanded that I play it cool.  Don't let anyone in on your real feelings.  That's the way I liked it, and that's the way it was gonna stay.

Ross was still prattling on—something about this Doctor Burke being a brother to his and Monica's father and nearing retirement age.  I listened intently, trying to size up how much of a threat this guy was going to be to my hideously inappropriate crush on Monica, but to my detriment, Ross' ranting and raving was interrupted by the obnoxious beeping of his pager.  He scrambled for the cordless phone, and the girls huddled to discuss the so-called 'sexy' qualities of the now-infamous Doctor Richard Burke.  From the dreamy look on Monica's face, this guy was quite the catch.

I hated him all ready.  And Rachel and Phoebe weren't saying anything to discourage Monica's infatuation.  Not that I could hear them very well over Ross' high-pitched yelling into the phone.  

"…Australopithicus was never fully erect!" he insisted, pacing dangerously near Joey's and my line of vision with the television.

I searched for something to say to get him to just _shut up_, so I could eavesdrop on the girls' gabfest. 

"Maybe he was nervous," I quipped cynically.

The only response I got was a glare and an increase in volume as Ross continued to hurl paleontology terms at the unfortunate soul on the other end of the phone line.  

Desperate times call for desperate measures.  Guess I'd have to ask Phoebe for a little inside info on Monica's mysterious date.

***

"Well, he's yummy," was the best I was getting out of our "floopy" blond friend about an hour later, after both Rachel and Ross and Monica had left for their respective dates.

I nodded impatiently.  "Anything a little more helpful, Pheebs?"  I probed.  

"Well, he looks like James Bond.  Or, or you know that guy from that show Magnum P.I.?" she asked, bouncing up and down excitedly.  

"Ooh!" yelled Joey, flipping channels furiously from his perch in the recliner next to mine.  "You mean, _this _show?" he declared triumphantly as the Magnum theme music blared loud enough to wake the building.

"Yeah!"  Phoebe exclaimed.  "This is it!  Ooh, this is a good one, too," she stated, settling in on the couch to watch the episode. 

I scrutinized the lead actor quickly, trying to discern what he had that I didn't.  If this Richard guy looked like him, maybe I could, too.  But after a few minutes of watching, I really wasn't seeing anything too special.  Must be some weird girl thing.

"Pheebs!"  I waved my hand in front of her face, trying to regain her attention.

"Hmm?" she murmured distractedly, eyes glued on the screen.

Man, this must be what everyone had been complaining about for the past few days.  If Joey and I had been zoned out anything like _this_…

I persisted, finally reaching over to grab one of her wrists and pull her to me.  

"Well, hello, Chandler," she purred, apparently thinking that I was trying to seduce her.

I quickly dropped her arm.  "Yeah, hi.  Can we get back to my question?"

"Which was?"

I rolled my eyes in sheer frustration.  "Where did she meet this doctor man?"

"Oh!  At that catering job-thingie her mom got for her last night.  They were really smitten at first sight.  He could hardly keep his hands off her kebabs, if you know what I…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know what you mean," I cut her off before she could go any further.  I had more information than I wanted to know.  So Monica really liked this guy.  Great.  Just great.  I sulked in my chair, not even in the mood to finish the rest of my fries.

"Dude," Joey commented.  "_What_ is the big deal?  It's Monica.  The woman who dated Paul the Wine Jerk and Fun Alcoholic Bobby.  Who knows what _this _guy will turn out to be?"

I just shrugged my shoulders listlessly.  

"What are you afraid of, anyway?  It's not like Monica has ever met her dream guy on any of these random dates."

And with that, for once in his dim life, Joey hit the nail on the head.  That was exactly what I was afraid of.

I barely caught his muttered comment as he turned back to the TV.  "Geez, you'd think you _liked _her or something."

***

My entire body twitched every time I heard a door slam in the hallway, so attuned was I in waiting for Monica to return from her date.  I was even ready to give up the comfort of my recliner in order to rush over and comfort her the very second she returned home.  

It was something of a tradition with us.  After every failure of a date, I would knock cautiously before entering her apartment and approach her quietly, sizing up the damage the latest date had done to her self-esteem.  I would stand in front of her, hopping nervously from foot to foot, my arms practically itching to hold her, to comfort her.  Most of the time, she would feign strength for a minute or two before her tear-filled brown eyes overflowed and she launched herself into my waiting embrace.  We would usually end up in a two-person heap on the couch, sometimes in her bed, as she struggled to regain control of her emotions, her face buried in my tear-soaked chest.  I had learned to wait out the worst of the storm, squeezing her tightly against me and dropping a few kisses in her silky dark hair.  Depending on the severity of her depression, we would finish off the evening by either devouring the stash of ice cream in her freezer or talking until we were interrupted by one of our other well-meaning friends.  

I had only stayed over, slept in her bed, twice.  And neither time had been for any romantic purpose.  She simply wanted a warm body next to her while she battled the last of her emotions, and I was the obvious choice.  According to her, I understood what it was like to be single.  I knew what she was going through.  I was, as she told me time and time again, her best friend.

I had never let on that I definitely thought of her as more.  I had never dared say it, for fear that she would think I was making it up for sympathetic reasons, or for pity, or some other godawful reason.  Or worse, that she would think I was trying to divert her attention with an amusing, but meaningless suggestion, that she and I were _made for each other_.

Sometimes, in fleeting moments, I thought maybe she felt it, too.  For instance, she was always the first to scoot closer to me and entwine her fingers with mine, or slip her arm through the crook in my elbow, or lean her head on my shoulder.  Usually, I'd just chalk those actions up to "touchy-feely Monica-ness," but then she'd give me that shy, questioning smile as if seeking my permission.  In response, I'd squeeze her hand quickly or rest my head on hers for a moment to ensure her that she could stay where she was.  That I really didn't mind at all.

Nope, I didn't mind at all.

***

There it was, the sound I'd been waiting for all evening long.  I could hear a man's voice rumble in the hallway and Monica respond with a flirty giggle.  Before I could react, although I didn't know what exactly I was going to do, the door to apartment number 20 closed firmly with a slam that invited no disturbances.  

An idea occurred to me, and I turned to my near-comatose roommate.

"Hey, Joe, ya hungry?  I think Mon's home, so she can bring it over."

"Huh?"  He turned to me, his expression vacant.

I repeated my question and watched as the glaze cleared from his eyes.  

"Yeah!  Whad'dya want this time?" he asked, reaching for the cordless.  "Pizza?  The Joey special?"

Not really caring, I nodded.  "Yeah, sure.  Sounds good, buddy."  _'Whatever,' _I thought, _'as long as they have speedy delivery.'_

My scheming mind was all ready across the hall, snickering as Monica's date was interrupted by another food delivery.  Sure, she'd be mad, but she'd eventually get over it, and in the meantime, her date would be suspended, hopefully permanently.  

***

Just as I'd predicted, Monica erupted through into our apartment with two pizzas in her hands precisely forty-seven minutes later, almost tearing the door off its hinges.  Joey eagerly accepted the boxes as I offered an apologetic smile.  After all, it _was _my fault.

"Sorry," I whispered to her, hoping to calm the rage on her pretty face.  

Monica shrugged and sunk down onto the couch near me.  "You guys just ruined the best date I've had in a long time, that's all."

_'No, no, no, no, no!'_  I screamed silently.  _'It wasn't even supposed to be a good date, let alone the best one!"_

I raised an eyebrow inquisitively at her, not trusting my voice.  

"I really like him, Chandler.  I mean, _really_," she confided ruefully.  "But it's not going to work out."

'_Yes!  Score one for the Chan-Chan man!'  _In my head, I was doing my patented 'Chandler-dance,' while I struggled to remain calm for Monica's sake.

"Oh, yeah?  Why not?"  I asked, slipping into "best friend" mode with ease.  After all, I had had _a lot _of practice.  

But something in her expression was guarded.  Cautious, almost.  She stared at me pensively for a moment, as if deliberating whether or not she wanted to confide in me.  Before I knew what had happened, she was on her feet and headed for the door, mumbling something about how it was just different this time.

Fifteen minutes ago I would have sworn there was no way I was _ever_ leaving the comfort of my chair, not for anything or anybody.  But I amended that the instant Monica walked out of my apartment.  After all, Monica wasn't just anybody.

I barely heard Joey's protest as I lurched from the chair, sending a newly opened box of pizza flying across the room.  Jerking the door open with one hand, I stalked purposefully into the hallway—and came to an abrupt halt.  Monica was leaning against the door to her apartment, apparently waiting for me.

"Hi," she said innocently, looking at me with that shy smile.

That smile did it to me every time.  I felt my knees weaken and fought for control, absently raking my left hand through my hair.  "Damn, Mon.  What game are you playing?"

She shrugged at me.  "No game.  Just wanted your full attention.  See if I could get you alone."  Her small smile broadened into a full-blown grin.  "And it worked," she told me smugly.

I raised my eyebrows at her and moved as if heading back into my apartment.  "Yeah, well, my seat's getting cold." 

Two small hands grasped my arm before I could turn to go.  I glanced down into her pleading eyes, unsure if I was flattered that she was working this hard to keep my attention or annoyed because I couldn't get a straight answer from her.

"No, Chandler, wait, stay with me for a little while," she implored me.

As if I could say no to that.  I feigned indecision for a spilt second before sighing dramatically as if I were greatly inconvenienced.  

"So now that you've got me," I commented playfully, "what are you going to do with me?"

Pretending to consider that thoroughly, she batted her eyelashes at me enticingly.  "I could do anything I want?" 

I nodded, hoping to come off as convincingly nonchalant.  "Sure," I told her.  _If only you knew, Monica.  If only you knew._

She tugged gently on the arm she still seized.  "Let's go for a walk."  

"Now?  It's almost three in the morning."

"C'mon, Chandler.  What else are you gonna do?  Watch infomercials with Joey?"

"Well, that miracle wax certainly is a miracle," I protested feebly, even while letting her pull me toward the stairs.

***

The streets were strangely peaceful as we strolled along the mostly-vacated sidewalks that were so busy during the day.  I commented on the difference to Monica, but no response came.  Glancing to my side, I realized that she wasn't there.  It took a few seconds of frantic head-turning before I located her sitting on a bench a few yards back.  Hesitantly, I approached her, noting the sad expression that had once again invaded her eyes.  

"Mon?"  I inquired of her down-turned head, wondering whether or not I should intrude on this private moment.  I spent a few heartbeats staring down at her dark hair, noting the way the strands reflected the illumination from the streetlights.

Finally, she looked up at me.  "Sorry, Chandler.  I always do this to you, don't I?"

I sunk to the seat beside her.  "Do what?"  I asked, knowing full well what she meant.

"You know.  Whine to you about my dates.  You must be so sick of it."

I shook my head empathetically.  "Nah.  Makes me feel better about my own pathetic dating life," I wisecracked, dodging to avoid the pinch she aimed at my forearm.

"Very funny," she said, before returning to seriousness.  "It's just that even with all the whining, I never seem to move forward.  I just keep falling back into the same old mistakes."

She looked to me for a response, and I nodded encouragingly, waiting for her to elaborate.  If I could have foreseen the next words she'd say, I probably would have steeled myself a bit better.  As it was, her confession hit me like a ton of bricks.  Or a sledgehammer.  Aimed directly for my heart.

"I really, really, _really _like Dr. Burke…I mean, Richard.  He's…he's…well, he's great.  But he's _twenty-one _years older than me!"

"And that's a lot," I interjected helpfully.  Well, helpful to me, anyway.

She glanced at me quickly before returning her gaze to her clenched hands resting in her lap.  "Yeah, it is a lot," she admitted.  "And it's probably just not right to pursue anything with him.  Besides the fact that it's just plain weird.  I mean, what would we tell my parents?"

I could only shrug helplessly, wishing that I could somehow ease her pain.

"It's just that…well…I _like _him, ya know?  He's this perfect guy—handsome, sophisticated, grown-up, responsible, and ready for a commitment.  And I've known him, like, forever!"  She gestured wildly with her hands.  "It'd be like dating someone I knew all ready…like dating, well, like dating a _friend_."

With that word, she looked intently into my eyes, searching for my input.  I knew she was anticipating the usual trusty old Chandler-advice, but my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and my mind kept replaying the same three words over and over.

_'Dating a friend…dating a friend….it'd be like dating a friend.'_

That was it.  It was a sign.  _I _was that friend.  She should be dating me.  Not some guy she knew when she was a kid.  

I was going to tell her my true feelings.  Right here and right now.  Otherwise I was going to lose any chance I'd ever have of being with her.

But even as I was forming the first words in my head, something intrinsically screamed for me to stop where I was, to halt everything.  Voices battled savagely for dominance in my befuddled thoughts.

_'Are you sure you want this?  Are you absolutely sure?_

_'Yes, of course.  I need her._

_'Of course you need her.  But you have her.  If you tell her everything, you could lose even what you have.  _

_'That couldn't happen.  I wouldn't let it.  **She** wouldn't let it._

_'Yes, it could.  And it would.  Do you really want to jeopardize your friendship?  Does having her **right now, **at this** very instant **mean that much to you?_

_'But if I don't say anything right now, I'm going to lose her to this doctor-guy._

_'Now is just not the right time._

_'But it **might **be.  I'll lose her otherwise._

_'No, you won't.  She'll come back.  Just let her go._

_'But…_

_'Trust me.  Stay where it's safe.  _

_'But I…_

_'If she doesn't take this chance, she'll be miserable.  Is that what you really want?  For your best friend to be miserable?  All because you wanted to keep her for yourself?_

_'Well, no, but…_

_'If you can honestly say that that's the way you want to win her affection, then go for it.  But you have the chance to be the bigger person here, Chandler.'_

Pulling myself out of my own universe, I realized Monica was saying something.  Or, rather, whispering something.  "I'm just going to forget it.  It's too perfect."

Even without consciously deciding anything, I found myself shaking my head adamantly.  "No, Mon.  You should go for it."

She seemed startled.  "What?"

"You should go for it.  You really should.  Just forget about your parents, forget about what anyone else says.  If you think he'll make you happy, then you should just…you should go for it."

I couldn't believe how hard those words were to get out.  But the smile on her assured me that I was doing the right thing.  Despite how much I wanted to tell her to just forget everything I'd just said.

Seeing that her eyes were tearing up, I acted reflexively, pulling her arms around me and then tightening my own around her.  She leaned into me instinctively, and we sat like that for a moment, finding comfort in familiarity.

Then she pulled back slightly, but not far enough to break our hold on each other.  "You really mean all that?"

 "Sure, Mon."

She sighed contently and resumed her position snuggled close to my chest.  "Okay, I'm going to go for it.  Who cares what everyone else thinks?  I'm going to make this the best relationship I've ever had.  Me and Doctor Burke…I mean, Richard."

I rested my cheek against her soft hair, hoping that she didn't feel the single tear that made its way down my cheek and into her tresses.  

Her voice drifted up to me.  "Hey, Chandler?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm getting kinda cold."

I immediately stood up, dragging her with me.  Somehow, we managed to stay in our embrace and we stood in one spot for a moment, swaying slightly to the tune being hummed by the electric streetlights.

"Chandler?"

"Hmmm?"  Why couldn't she let us have just this one moment before I had to let her go?  

But her statement was simple.  

"We're almost dancing."

***

Still clothed in her flimsy dress and sheer hose, Monica was shivering before too much longer.  With my arm still wrapped around her, we made our way back up the stairs to our hallway before pausing for one last hug.  

"Thanks, Chandler," she said, brushing a gentle kiss across my cheek before unlocking her apartment door.  

I nodded.  "Anytime."

"Goodnight," she offered just before closing the door behind her.

I stood there for a moment, wondering just how crazy she would think I was if I knocked down the door and proclaimed my undying love for her.  Knowing Monica, she would probably demand that I first clean up the mess from the broken-down door.

Not in the mood to return to my own apartment, I stared vacantly down the empty hallway.  Suddenly, I found my feet propelling themselves in the direction from which they'd come, back out the door and onto the city streets.

It was nearing five in the morning.  The sun would be rising any minute.  In fact, I could see the sky beginning to lighten up all ready.  Suddenly feeling utterly exhausted, I collapsed on the bench before realizing it was the same one that Monica and I had just vacated.  And now I was sitting here again…all alone.

Damn irony.

I didn't regret what I'd done, though.  It was the right thing to do.  She was going to be happy now, and as far as I was concerned, that was really all that mattered.  If she was happy, I was happy.  And besides, I had all the time in the world to wait for her to drift back to me.  Because I knew it was going to happen…someday.

And with that reassuring thought, I lifted my face to the warmth of the rising sun and waited for the new day to break.

_Slow dancing on the boulevard_

_In the quiet moments while the city's still dark_

_Sleepwalking through the summer rain_

_In the tired spaces you could hear her name_

_When she was warm and tender _

_And you held her arms around you_

_There was nothing but her love and affection_

_She was crazy for you_

_Now she's part of something that you lost_

_And for all you know this could be _

_The difference between what you need_

_And what you want to be_

_Yeah, what you want to be_

_Night swimming in her diamond dress_

_Making small circles move across the surface_

_Stand watching from the steady shore_

_Feeling wide open and waiting for_

_Something warm and tender _

_Now she's moving further from you_

_There was nothing that could make it easy on you_

_Every step you take reminds you that she's walking on_

_ And for all you know this could be _

_The difference between what you need_

_And what you want to be_

_Every word you never said_

_Echoes down your empty hallway_

_Everything that was your world just came down_

_It just came down_

_Day breaking on the boulevard_

_Feel the sun warming up your secondhand heart_

_Light swimming right across your face_

_And you think maybe someday_

_Yeah, maybe someday_

_And for all you know this could be _

_The difference between what you need_

_And what you want _

_And for all you know_

_For all you know_

_For all that you know_

_This is what you want to be_

_What you want to be_

"The Difference" 

(Rob Thomas) 

from the album Matchbox Twenty: More Than You Think You Are

Thanks for reading!  Please review!


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